


Riptide

by UmbreonGurl



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Alternate Universe - K/DA (League of Legends), F/F, Fluff, Relationship Study, a 5+1 fic, just overall tender content, soft, some cuddles, theyre... yanno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28694928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UmbreonGurl/pseuds/UmbreonGurl
Summary: Five times Ahri asks Kai’Sa to stay, and one time she doesn’t have to.
Relationships: Ahri/Kai'Sa (League of Legends)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 174





	Riptide

**Author's Note:**

> A playlist of songs I had on loop while writing this (and largely inspired this) can be found [here.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4ttGhe35AYZ1UXS4Jpyojw?si=nMfDGxolSzm7WLQ_cm4xPg)

Concerts are always a bit overwhelming. The noise, the smells, the flashing lights—none of it is anything Ahri’s unfamiliar with, but even she can only tolerate so much at once. One of the largest disadvantages to having sharp senses, she finds, is that they can easily get overwhelmed.

Some days it takes longer than others to reach that breaking point. For New York’s show, Ahri’s in a great mood, so she makes it a few hours after finishing before crashing into the blissful embrace of a silent, dark hotel room. For LA’s, she’s already tired beforehand, and she swears she almost trips over her own feet at the end of their last song when a flashing camera hits her eyes at just the perfect angle to send her vision white.

It’s something the fans don’t seem to notice and Ahri’s easily able to pretend the slip didn’t happen, but she’s pretty sure that Kai’Sa saw the mistake when she glances over for a moment. Kai’Sa’s attention to detail is second-to-none, and it’s especially so when it comes to her choreography—she had definitely seen it, but she knows better than to push it before they’re offstage.

They finish their performance with a bang, firecrackers and sparks going off behind them in a flurry that sends Ahri’s ears ringing even through the earplugs she has in. Her teeth grind together as she smiles and waves, looking pretty for the cameras blasting her face across the various screens throughout the stadium.

Ahri is a vision, all white teeth and straight hair, heels and hairclips and crystalline flair—but she is also tired, and by the time she manages to make it back to her dressing room, she practically collapses into the chair in front of the mirror. 

Her eyes shut without her even thinking about it—the lights on the mirror feel blinding, and she fumbles for the off switch until she finally finds it and is granted a small bit of sweet, sweet relief.

And even still, her eyes burn. Ahri runs her arm across her face for a moment before letting it fall, hanging loose in the air below.

When she opens them again, the mask crumbles, the woman looking back nowhere near the same one that had been those screens a few minutes earlier. Her makeup is smudged, her hair frizzy, the bags under her eyes having all but materialized from thin air.

Normally, she’d take off her earplugs at this point, but for now, she decides to leave them in—everything still feels so _loud_ , and the phantom echoes of screaming crowds and booming basslines still linger. 

A knock at the door cuts through her thoughts, and the sound of a turning doorknob sends Ahri looking over.

“Hey.”

Kai’Sa’s voice is calming, a low, quiet hum that Ahri’s learned to pick out amongst any sort of background noise. Even after hours of dancing around onstage, Kai’Sa still looks immaculate, and the small bit of sweat stuck to her forehead if anything only makes her look better. Somehow, she manages to always make everything look effortless.

“You feeling okay?” Ahri’s sure that Kai’Sa’s largely asking to be polite; it’s clear to anyone with eyes that she feels like shit. (She certainly knows she probably looks the part.) 

“Tired,” Ahri answers, letting her eyes fall shut again. 

“You’ve been working yourself to the bone recently,” Kai’Sa points out. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

Lies spill forth from her lips easier than a shaken soda can. “I got plenty.” Ahri pauses, before elaborating. “I know I at least got eight hours.” 

They’re apparently not convincing enough.

“You were still in your office this morning. You didn’t sleep last night, did you?” Kai’Sa’s question comes with only good intentions, but still it cuts right through the farce.

Ahri purses her lips, before sighing. “No,” she admits. “I didn’t.”

“You can’t keep doing this,” Kai’Sa says, and then a hand is on her shoulder.

The contact sends the guilt rushing through, because Kai’Sa’s right. Ahri _can’t_ keep doing this— _shouldn’t_ keep doing this. And yet—the paperwork keeps on coming seemingly without end, there’s always emails to send and phone calls to make, and before she knows it the sun peeks through the blinds and she’s found herself pulling another all-nighter.

“I know.” Ahri pauses, trying to find the words to elaborate, but fails. “I know,” she repeats, tone airy, exhausted. “But what’s done is done. I can’t time travel and fix it now.”

“You can’t change the past, no,” Kai’Sa agrees, “but you can change the future. Let us pick up some of the slack. Delegate. You shouldn’t be staying up all night.”

“I’ll try.” Ahri opens her eyes and meets Kai’Sa’s gaze in the mirror. “I’ve _been_ trying.” 

“I know,” Kai’Sa says, giving Ahri’s shoulder a small squeeze. “You work so hard. So, so hard.”

Ahri finds herself relaxing into Kai’Sa’s touch with a small sigh, shutting her eyes again.

“For now, is there anything I can do for you?”

“Stay?” Ahri asks, and it comes out more of a plea than a question, despite how confident she tries to appear. “Please?”

“Of course.” 

There’s a small screech of rubber on linoleum as Kai’Sa drags another chair over, (likely right next to her own, if Ahri had to guess) and before Ahri knows it, an arm wraps around her shoulder, running soft strokes up and down along her upper arm. 

“You did really great out there today,” Kai’Sa says, softly. “The way you moved looked so natural, and the crowd loved your solo.” To anyone else’s ears, it would probably be barely above a whisper. To Ahri’s, it may as well have been whispered right into them. 

“I almost tripped over my own feet.” Ahri pouts, opening her eyes to look Kai’Sa’s way, only for her chest to tighten slightly at the fond way Kai’Sa looks back.

“But you didn’t,” Kai’Sa counters, bringing the hand on Ahri’s arm up until it finds the side of her face, slowly— _gently_ —pulling it over into her shoulder. “You did great, and now you need to rest. Close your eyes, I’m not going anywhere.”

Ahri doesn’t have the energy to argue. “Okay.”

Ahri does, and she doesn’t remember much after that—lulled slowly into the dark by the slow rhythm of Kai’Sa’s breathing and the steady beat of her heart.

* * *

For Ahri, practicing her piano skills is a regular occurrence, even during the off-times. She had always figured the reason for it is something along the lines of _use it or lose it_ , but she had never been bold enough in her early career to question it, and now it’s just become a habit. It’s one she’s tamped down to acceptable levels, a few hours here and there instead of during any free time she may have had, but it’s still a habit nonetheless.

Some days, she uses the time to work on her lyrics. Others, she sits at the piano and mindlessly presses at chords in familiar patterns that have become all but second nature by now. Whether it be songs of her own making, songs written by people long gone, or ones made by artists still in their prime, piano is calming.

There’s something consistently grounding about those black-and-white keys, in the way they always stay ready and waiting for her fingers to brush across them and bring the music to life. It was one of the things that had first drawn her to music, now that she thinks about it—the versatility found inside the consistency. 

The same keys, when pressed harder or softer, faster or slower, can sound so different, convey different feelings, _be_ different. If you let your emotions flow through your movements, you can do whatever you want—play a happy song slowly enough and it becomes bitter, play a sad song fast enough and it can turn angry. 

It’s that freedom, that flexibility, that had first drawn Ahri towards it, the same thing continuing to draw her back day after day, week after week. Even during the times she had felt like everything was out of her control, the piano was always there, ready, waiting, never moving without her commands—and even when everything is fine and dandy, the seat is always open and ready, shining ivory and obsidian beckoning her fingers forth.

It’s how she finds herself sitting at the piano in the corner of her office playing a song she’s long since forgotten the name of. It’s an oldie, a cute, soft tune with a bittersweet melody that’s burned into her muscle memory, and even though she hasn’t played it in years, it comes back to her with ease.

God—when was the last time she’d played this? It had to have been before K/DA, at least—that’s when she’d written it. Ahri vaguely recalls coming home one night after a particularly grueling photoshoot and just hammering away at it so hard that the bittersweet parts had turned into just plain bitter.

Today’s performance is lighter, less aggressive, not fueled by the anger of lack of control and contracts—but by something Ahri can’t quite put her finger on. But she doesn’t need to think about it, it’s just her, the piano, and the music.

Or it is, at least, until it isn’t. Kai’Sa looms in the doorway when Ahri looks up, tall and intimidating if not for her pretty face—big doe eyes and a soft smile giving away the fact that she is a gentle giant.

Ahri’s hands keep moving even as she watches, and Kai’Sa doesn’t say a word, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms, head swaying slightly to the beat, entranced by the sound of the music.

At some point, Ahri starts suddenly speeding up or slowing down, almost as if trying to make a game of throwing off her rhythm. She finds herself unsuccessful, and Kai’Sa matches her play-for-play with a small, mischievous smile. Without even thinking about it, Ahri feels her own lips curl up to match it.

When the last notes ring out into the air, Kai’Sa stops her movements. Ahri glances up.

“I haven’t heard you play that one before,” Kai’Sa says, with an appraising glance that makes Ahri feel as if she’s staring right through her. “What’s it called?”

“I don’t remember,” Ahri replies, letting her hands slip off the keys down to her sides. She sighs. “It’s been a long time since I’ve last played it.” She’s also pretty sure she had never really even given it a name, but that’s another issue entirely.

“I couldn’t tell. It sounded to me as if you’ve been practicing it every day, you didn’t miss a single note.” Kai’Sa hums, standing back up and uncrossing her arms. “Whatever it’s called, it’s beautiful, but it sounded… well, rather melancholy, underneath all the upbeat notes.”

“It is,” Ahri confirms. “it was written to be sad, but in a subtle way. I think the composer was trying to show that it’s not always obvious when people are feeling down—it’s often the happiest things that are the saddest under the surface.”

Ahri very pointedly doesn’t mention that she knows this because she wrote it, but from the way Kai’Sa starts making her way over with that concerned resting bitch face of hers, Kai’Sa can probably read inbetween the lines.

“Mmm. I suppose that can be true.”

Ahri scoots over on the piano bench, and Kai’Sa takes a seat right beside her. 

“I think, though, sometimes, all it takes is a little push to change that.” Kai’Sa says, placing her hands on the keys—Kai’Sa had never been much for piano, much preferring her trusty acoustic guitar, but she had picked up a few things over the years. Familiar chords ring out, a different song, but one Ahri still recognizes—a tragic tune, but slower, softer, with more swing. 

“With the right touch, even happiness can be found underneath that sorrow. You can’t have sorrow without good times.” Kai’Sa pauses and turns to look at Ahri. “It just takes a little love and care and some digging to find them.”

“I’m not sure I see what you mean. The song in itself has sorrow weaved into the melody.” Ahri purses her lips slightly, bringing her own hands back to the piano and playing the chords faster, more aggressive, before turning her eyes back towards Kai’Sa. “You can shift the tone some, yes, but not completely. It’s not something that can be completely removed.”

“And that’s a good thing. You don’t want to remove it.” Kai’Sa’s hand moves, and a few more happy chords ring out. “But it’s all about what you emphasize. Make the right parts speak louder, and it can change everything.”

Ahri frowns, letting her hands pull back from the keys. “Stay a bit and play for me, then. Show me. Turn a sad song happy.”

“It’d be my pleasure to perform for you,” Kai’Sa says, and she scoots just a little closer, so much so that their hips are practically touching. “But only if you give me an encore after. I love listening to you play.”

Ahri grins. “Of course. I love putting on a show.” For the right people—the right _person_ , she’d perform anytime.

Kai’Sa meets it with a smile of her own. “Then it’s a good thing I love to watch and listen.”

Ahri finds herself paying far more attention to Kai’Sa’s face than the music, but it’s still one of the best piano recitals she’s ever sat through. The next time Ahri plays that familiar, dreary song, it feels far more sweet than bitter. 

* * *

Everyone in K/DA has their haunts—Evelynn has her garage, Ahri has her office, Akali has her… for a lack of a better term, Ahri would probably call it a man cave. The studio they all use for dance practices is technically funded on K/DA’s dime, but it is—in every way that matters—Kai’Sa’s space.

It smells of her—the essential oils that she likes to put in the little diffuser in the corner (recently, she seems to have a thing for lavender), the flowery detergent she uses on the sweat rags she keeps folded in a neat pile by the minifridge, the mints she keeps in a little jar by the front door for when she’s craving some sugar.

Everything about the room screams Kai’Sa. The soft, calming aesthetic, the fruit bowl loaded with peaches and apples and oranges, even things like the stupid plastic waterbottles they always have laying around remind Ahri of her—even when Kai’Sa isn’t there.

Ahri’s feet burn even before she walks in. Expensive heels—even for all the practice she’s had with them over the years—are never comfortable, and after several days of nonstop being on her feet in them, the statement has never felt truer. High fashion always comes at a price—whether it be literal or otherwise, or both. Changing into sneakers helps slightly, but the pain doesn’t go away completely.

She’ll deal. She has work to do. 

Checking her phone as she walks in, Ahri realizes that she’s early. A glance around shows that, predictably, Kai’Sa isn’t here yet. She’s always had a habit of being right on time—never early, never late, somehow managing to always be where she needs to be right on the dot.

It means Ahri has about three minutes to shove her stuff aside and start stretching, and—as expected, Kai’Sa shows up exactly three minutes later.

“Hey.”

Ahri stands up and her hands pull away from down by her toes to hang comfortably at her sides. 

“Hey,” she echoes. It’s such a simple exchange of words, nothing more than a greeting and an acknowledgement of each other’s presence, but it’s all it takes to send Ahri’s heart fluttering in her chest.

Kai’Sa gives her an appraising once over. “You ready?”

“Of course.” The little smile Ahri receives for the words makes her heart jump. God, she’d be willing to do just about anything if it meant getting another smile like that. “Always.”

Setting her bag down in the corner and taking off her jacket, Kai’Sa gives Ahri an approving nod. Kai’Sa had already been in her athletic wear when she came in, but removing her jacket gives Ahri a full view of toned midriff and chiseled shoulders that she can’t help but stare at a little longer than she should. (And she’ll admit that the view briefly helps her forget about the fact that every step she takes feels like she’s walking on hot coals.) 

Either Kai’Sa doesn’t notice or she doesn’t care, because she never calls her out on it—no, the thing Kai’Sa calls her out on isn’t the fact Ahri ogles her like a piece of restaurant-quality prime rib, but the fact she cringes slightly while trying to do a particularly annoying step in their routine. It’s actually a little infuriating—the way Kai’Sa notices the things Ahri _doesn’t_ want her to.

“Stop,” Kai’Sa orders, and the music turns off. “We’re done for today.”

“Why?” Ahri frowns. “We’ve barely even started. It’s only been like—what, fifteen minutes?”

“You’re in pain.” Kai’Sa says, concerned. It’s both a question and a statement of fact.

“I’m not. I’m fine.” Ahri shakes her head. “It’s just some blisters, I’ll deal. You can turn the music back on.”

“You don’t need to deal,” Kai’Sa says, and it’s accompanied by a look Ahri really doesn’t want to see right now— _pity._ “In fact, I don’t _want_ you to. Trying to work through it will only make things worse in the long run.”

“I don’t have time to stop,” Ahri counters, tail swishing in the air behind her, irritated. “Turn the music back on.”

“No.” Kai’Sa doesn’t budge. “My studio, my rules, and rule number one is that _working through the pain_ is not—and never will be allowed. We’re done for today.”

Ahri almost wants to comment that it’s actually her name on the deed for the property—and thus it’s technically her studio, but she holds her tongue. Kai’Sa’s stubborn, and once she makes up her mind on something, she won’t be changing it.

“Fine,” Ahri relents, making her way over to the minifridge and grabbing a water bottle. She takes a seat. “For today, we can be done.”

Kai’Sa’s lips purse slightly, clearly reading inbetween the lines and knowing Ahri’s only temporarily dropping the subject, but she doesn’t push it further—instead making her way over to the speakers and switching them off.

Ahri scrolls through her phone as Kai’Sa putters around doing god knows what, at least until her social media feed is interrupted by Kai’Sa’s voice.

“Take off your shoes.” Her tone is surprisingly commanding for someone usually so soft spoken. It’s something Kai’Sa must realize after the fact, because she hesitates for a second. 

“If you don’t mind, that is—” Kai’Sa clarifies, hands moving anxiously as if trying to physically grab the words she’s looking for out of the air. “I used to get blisters a lot. I’ve gotten pretty good with learning how to deal with them, and I figured I’d help you out, if you wanted.” 

Kai’Sa sets her supplies down on the floor before kneeling, looking up and waiting for approval, almost as if she’s debating whether or not she should get up again. 

Ahri sets her phone aside. “No—you’re fine. Stay. I appreciate it.” Ahri pauses to clarify. “I’d like your help. Please. Go ahead, work your magic.”

With permission granted, Kai’Sa gets to work, reaching for Ahri’s sneakers, one by one undoing the laces and slipping them off. The socks go next, gently peeled off by long, careful fingertips, and Kai’Sa lets out a small hiss at the sight of Ahri’s feet. 

“Ahri,” she says, almost disbelieving. “You weren’t seriously going to try to tough this out, were you?”

Ahri almost feels a little guilty under Kai’Sa’s gaze, like a misbehaving child being scolded for getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Maybe,” she admits. Maybe is probably putting things too lightly, now that she thinks about it. _Probably_ would have likely been a better word for it. She’s done it before—it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to say she’d do it again.

Kai’Sa reaches for the petroleum jelly and puts some of it on her fingertips, slathering each blister in it. “You shouldn’t be on your feet much for a few days,” she says, as she puts a bandage on one of them. “You need to let these heal.”

“You know I can’t promise that,” Ahri says, with a small glare. 

Kai’Sa sighs and there’s another crinkling of a wrapper as she opens another bandage. “At least try.”

Ahri’s expression softens. “I’ll try.”

The smile she’s met with in return is so bright it’s positively blinding. “That’s all I ask.”

* * *

Shopping has always been one of Ahri’s favorite forms of therapy. (It also happens to be one of her only forms of it, but that’s another issue entirely.) Evelynn, of course, is all for it, and Akali isn’t always pleased about getting dragged along, but Kai’Sa never seems to care either way, happy to either come along or stay behind.

Kai’Sa doesn’t have Evelynn’s enthusiasm for spending cash, nor Ahri’s taste for expensive clothes, but she occasionally will pick up a few things for herself here and there. They’re usually on the smaller end—a pair of leggings here, a purse there, and once Ahri had seen Kai’Sa get a pair of platforms, but she hasn’t repeated that one since after blanching at the price tag while checking out.

Kai’Sa has always been a practical person. It’s something Ahri’s noticed from day one, and it’s something that hasn’t changed even after all the concerts and interviews and everything that comes with the fame and the fortune. It’s endearing, actually. Despite everything, Kai’Sa is still the same person she always has been—sweet, caring, down to earth, and most importantly, hot as hell in a pair of heels that cost way more than they arguably should.

But just as fast as they were put on, they’re taken off, and with a glance at the price tag, Kai’Sa sets them aside with a small sigh.

If Evelynn had come, they’d be picked up with a click of her tongue and promptly put in the “to buy” pile. Kai’Sa would bitch and moan, but they’d eventually end up in her closet anyways—because when Evelynn wants something, you can’t stop her. Unfortunately, though, Evelynn had been busy today, having already made plans with Akali, so the heels stay lying where Kai’Sa had set them, among a pile of Ahri’s rejected blouses and a few skirts.

“Those looked nice on you,” Ahri says, offhandedly, as she grabs a blouse out of her “to-try” pile. She’s only about fifty percent sure she manages to pull off actually sounding that way, but it’s too late to worry about that now.

“They did,” Kai’Sa agrees, with a small frown. “But not nice enough to be worth a few thousand dollars.”

It takes all of Ahri’s self control not to say she disagrees—she’d pay double the price tag to see Kai’Sa in those again. She lets out a small hum instead. “Are you going to get something else instead, then?”

“No. Probably not.” Kai’Sa shakes her head. “I know you and Evelynn like stores like these, but… everything here is just so _expensive._ It feels wasteful. I could get something I like for a third—probably even a fourth of the price.”

“It’s not wasteful to spend what you earn, Kai’Sa.” Ahri huffs. “If you have the cash to do it, and it doesn’t hurt anyone, do what makes you happy.”

Kai’Sa shrugs, eyeing the blouse in Ahri’s hands with careful attention. “I don’t stop you because it makes you happy, but it doesn’t make me happy, so I don’t feel the need to participate.”

Ahri frowns. “If you don’t like doing this, you don’t have to come. The last thing I want to do is drag you to something that makes you miserable.”

“I’m not miserable.” Kai’Sa assures her, with a strong, steady look. “If I was, I wouldn’t have agreed to come. Trust me, I’d speak up if I hated it that much.”

“I know, but…” Ahri hesitates, running her free hand along the back of her neck. “I still feel a bit bad about it.” When she says it out loud, it sounds a bit silly, actually. Kai’Sa’s a big girl, she can make her own decisions. Still, though, some part of Ahri worries.

“Don’t. I enjoy seeing you enjoy yourself. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.” Kai’Sa says the words with such conviction that it makes Ahri pause, sending the butterflies in her stomach flying in a frenzy—not out of anxiety, but something else. “And while I personally don’t tend to be a fan of expensive clothes, you _do_ look quite nice in them.” 

Kai’Sa smiles, and there’s a small, mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Go try it on,” she says, nodding to the blouse in Ahri’s hands. “I know you said you were taking the day off from work, but I’d very much like to see you model that for me, if you’d be so kind. You always look nice in red.”

“Why, when you ask so nicely, how can I refuse? Stay right there. I’ll be right back.” Making her way into the dressing room, Ahri shuts the door behind her and quickly changes to find that—Kai’Sa was right, she _does_ look good in red.

Kai’Sa looks up as she hears the door open, and Ahri preens a little at the way she seems at a loss for words.

“So?” Ahri asks, slowly spinning around to show off the shirt at every angle. “How do I look?”

“Fantastic,” Kai’Sa answers, and Ahri swears she catches her glancing a bit lower than her face more than once. “That one’s a keeper for sure.”

“You know, even if you aren’t a fan of buying stuff like this yourself, you do have quite the keen eye for fashion, Kai.” Ahri makes her way over to the pile of clothes she hasn’t tried on yet. “I have quite a few things left to try on. Mind helping me out and giving me your expert opinion?”

Kai’Sa nods. “Of course. Anything else I can help out with?” The way Kai’Sa asks makes it clear it’s more a rhetorical question than anything, but Ahri takes the opportunity for what it is.

“You could let me buy you those heels, for one,” Ahri says, with a pointed glance over to the shoebox in the rejects pile. “It’d make me very happy if you would.”

Kai’Sa gives Ahri an unimpressed look, before her expression softens with a small, exasperated sigh. “When you put it that way, how can I refuse?”

“You can’t.” Ahri places a quick kiss to Kai’Sa’s cheek before starting to make her way back into the dressing room. “That’s the whole point.”

“I’ll get you back for this later,” Kai’Sa threatens.

Ahri shuts the door behind her with a small click. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” 

* * *

The kitchen is rarely used to actually cook. It’s not uncommon to find Akali munching on ramen or cereal at the asscrack of dawn, or occasionally Evelynn will make herself some coffee with her gourmet overpriced coffee beans, but for the most part, the only one who uses the kitchen for its intended purpose is Kai’Sa.

It’s a shame (and honestly a bit embarrassing) that after all this time, Ahri doesn’t know how to cook. She can make a simple meal, throw some meat on a fire or boil some vegetables, but most of what she does isn’t really what she’d call cooking—calling it as such would be an insult to chefs everywhere.

It’s something Ahri’s reminded of every time she actually uses the kitchen, the mere act of turning on the stovetop reminding her of spicy chicken and beef stew and all sorts of other dishes Kai’Sa has made on it before. Just thinking about it makes her boxed pasta seem positively sad in comparison. But hey—food is food.

“What are you making?”

Arms wrap around her torso and a chin makes its way onto her shoulder. Ahri almost jumps—Kai’Sa had been so quiet on her feet that she hadn’t even noticed her come into the kitchen. 

“Pasta,” Ahri answers. “Why? You want some?”

“Mmm. Maybe.” Kai’Sa’s breath is warm against her neck. “What kind of pasta?”

“Nothing special, really.” Ahri hums. “Just pasta.” 

Kai’Sa pauses. “Just pasta? As in _only_ pasta? No sauce?”

“No sauce,” Ahri confirms, and it takes almost all of her self control not to burst out laughing at how disgusted Kai’Sa looks at the idea. “Just pasta.”

Kai’Sa lifts her head up. “Ahri, that’s not very healthy. Pasta alone is just carbs.”

“I know,” Ahri says, with a small, mischievous smile. “That’s why I was going to put some butter on it when I’m done—you know, for protein. And dairy’s a great source of calcium, too. Very healthy.”

Kai’Sa sighs, and Ahri turns to face her.

“If you wanted to stay and help a bit, I wouldn’t mind changing my meal plan, though.” It’s both an offer and a request for help, and it’s one Kai’Sa doesn’t hesitate to take her up on.

“I’d be happy to stay if it meant you finally got some good nutrition. There should be a pack of chicken breasts in the fridge,” Kai’Sa says, pulling her arms back and going into full chef mode, nudging Ahri aside so she can grab a pan from the cabinet. “And some leftover mixed veggies. Go grab them, and the butter.”

“Right away, Chef Kai’Sa.” Ahri moves to grab the ingredients. “Anything else I should grab?”

“Garlic and parmesan cheese,” comes the answer, as Kai’Sa monitors the boiling pasta. “If we don’t have any whole garlic left, there should be a jar of the pre-minced stuff in the side drawer of the fridge.” 

“Yes, Chef,” Ahri calls back, with a small mock salute, mimicking one of the junior cooks on those cooking shows they occasionally watch together. “Right away, Chef.”

Kai’Sa snorts slightly and lets out a small chuckle. “I’m not a celebrity chef, you don’t have to respond like that.”

“You’re a celebrity and a chef,” Ahri points out, setting the chicken and veggies out on the counter. “That’s a celebrity chef to me.” It takes a bit of digging to find the cheese and the garlic, but she eventually finds them and sets them out too.

“I’m no Morgana,” Kai’Sa says, giving Ahri a grateful nod as she passes the ingredients over.

“True,” Ahri agrees, bringing her hand up to her chin, faking being deep in thought for a moment before coming to an epiphany. “You’re much prettier than she is.”

“Flatterer.” The beeping of the oven timer Ahri had set for the pasta catches Kai’Sa’s attention. “Grab a strainer for me, would you?”

“Of course.” Ahri nods. “I’m on it.” 

“I’ll meet you by the sink,” Kai’Sa says, as she goes to find some potholders.

A strainer is quickly found and placed in the sink just before Kai’Sa brings the pot over and drains it.

Kai’Sa glances up. “For reference, this is penne. Next time I ask you what kind of pasta you’re making, if you’re not making any sauce, you can answer with that.”

“And what if it isn’t penne? What do I call it then, miss pasta expert?”

Ahri moves to reach a hand into the strainer to steal a bite of pasta, before her hand is swatted away. 

“Read the box and it’ll tell you what kind it is. Hands off.”

“Just one piece wouldn’t hurt anything,” Ahri says, with a pout, cradling her hand as if it’d been burnt. “You aren’t even letting me eat my own cooking.”

“Because I know you. One piece of pasta very quickly turns to all of them, and if I let you keep sneaking them, there won’t be any pasta left to cook with.” Kai’Sa points towards the counter. “Take a seat and wait.”

“You’re not going to let me help?” Ahri’s ears droop, and she layers on some good old fashioned puppy dog eyes for good measure.

“Not tonight,” Kai’Sa says. “It’s a fairly simple dish, and most everything is already prepped. It’s just a matter of throwing everything all together.”

“Okay,” Ahri says. “Another time, then.”

“Another time,” Kai’Sa confirms, throwing some butter and garlic into the pan. “I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Ahri says, placing her elbow on the counter and resting her head on her hand. “But do please hurry it up, I’m hungry. I was fully expecting to be eating by now.”

“Hush,” Kai’Sa scolds. “What you had planned was eating. Tonight, you’ll be _dining._ There’s a difference.”

“Ah. Of course,” Ahri says. “My bad. I’ll wait, then. I wouldn’t want to rush fine dining.”

“Don’t worry, I promise it’ll be worth the wait,” Kai’Sa assures her, adding in the veggies. 

The smell wafting from the pan makes Ahri hungrier than before. “I don’t doubt it.”

* * *

Ahri is clingy when she sleeps. It’s a habit Kai’Sa’s known about for a while, having made itself known since the first time they shared a bed together.

What Ahri never seems to comment on, though, is that often times Kai’Sa finds herself equally so. Arms weave around Ahri’s torso when Ahri’s tail makes its way around her ankles, trading touches and hugs and whispers under faint lamplight late at night.

It’s why waking up is one of Kai’Sa’s favorite parts of the day. The way Ahri’s ears droop when she’s not at attention, the soft rise and fall of her chest against Kai’Sa’s own, the tiny purrs she sometimes makes in her sleep if you hold her just right—they’re all little things that nobody else gets to see, and some greedy, jealous part of Kai’Sa revels in it.

“Hey. Good morning, gorgeous.” Kai’Sa presses a small kiss to Ahri’s forehead. “It’s time to get up.”

Kai’Sa is met with a groan in response, and she can’t help but let out a small chuckle. Kai’Sa had always thought Ahri was a morning person, before. She had always seemed so perky at early morning practices. As it turns out, she’s not—she’s just extremely good at faking it once she gets out of bed and throws on some clothes.

“Just a lil’ longer,” Ahri mutters, leaning closer into Kai’Sa’s hold. “We don’t need to go anywhere. Day off, remember?”

Ahri does have a point, there. Kai’Sa hadn’t even thought about that before waking Ahri up, body moving on autopilot. She supposes she should have known considering she didn’t wake up to a blaring alarm today. “I suppose that’s true.” 

“Of course it is,” Ahri mumbles. “I’m always right.”

“Not always.”

“No,” Ahri says, with a huff. She still doesn’t open her eyes, but her ears perk up slightly, showing she’s starting to wake up a bit. “I’m never wrong. Not once have I ever been wrong.”

“There was at least a few times—”

Ahri cuts her off, cracking an eye open with a small smile. “Nope. Not once.”

Kai’Sa huffs. “Of course. Sorry. Not once. You’re always right.”

Ahri pulls one of her arms out from the tangle of limbs and pats Kai’Sa approvingly before closing her eyes again. “There you go. You’re learning.” 

“I’ve always been a quick study.” Kai’Sa hums. “Especially in topics I find interesting.”

“I always knew you were smart.” Ahri scoots herself just a tiny bit closer. (Not that there was much space between them in the first place.) “And I’m never wrong,” she adds, as an afterthought.

“Never,” Kai’Sa agrees, lifting a hand to lightly trail through Ahri’s hair, lingering at the base of her ears for a few soft scratches.

Ahri leans into the touch and her chest rumbles, and it runs through Kai’Sa’s bones like a drumbeat, soft, low, steady. Her tail twitches around Kai’Sa’s ankles, as if wanting to swish contentedly, but still not wanting to leave its spot.

“Mmm… That feels nice.”

“I know. It always does.” Kai’Sa chuckles when she scratches at just the right spot and the purring gets louder. “That’s why I do it.”

“That’s so generous of you,” Ahri says. “What a nice, selfless girlfriend I have.”

“I do my best. What can I say, I have a thing for helping animals in need.”

Kai’Sa’s met with a small, annoyed smack to her forearm for the comment, but the purring still continues.

“You’re ruining the moment,” Ahri protests, as she opens her eyes again.

Without her contacts in, gorgeous, natural gold shines through. Her eyes were one of the things about Ahri that had instantly caught Kai’Sa’s attention when they had first met, golden, catlike, inviting yet dangerous. No matter how long she stares at them, she still finds herself just as fascinated as the first time she had seen them.

“Good morning,” Kai’Sa says. “Nice of you to join us.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Ahri says, leaning forward and pressing a small, chaste kiss to Kai’Sa’s lips. “I’m happy to be here.”

Kai’Sa mirrors the action, giving Ahri a kiss back in return. “And I’m happy to have you here.”

They fall silent for a few after that, merely taking in each other’s presence and basking in the warmth of having someone nearby, before Ahri speaks up again.

“I’m kinda craving pancakes,” she says. 

“We could make some,” Kai’Sa offers. “We haven’t had any in a while.”

“That’d be nice. I’d like that.” Ahri hums. “Maybe we could even add some chocolate chips—ooh, and we could make bacon on the side as well.”

“And fruit,” Kai’Sa adds. “If we have bacon, we’re having some fruit too.”

“I think there’s some fresh oranges in the fridge,” Ahri muses. “We could have those with it.”

“That’d work,” Kai’Sa agrees. “I had one last night. They’re quite good.”

“I’m glad. Sometimes they can be hit or miss. I think they’re in season right now, so that probably helps a bit.” Ahri’s tail weaves its way out from in between their legs to swish side to side in anticipation. “Personally, though, I’m more looking forward to the bacon.”

Kai’Sa laughs. “Of course you are. If given the choice, you probably wouldn’t eat much fruit at all.”

Ahri smiles. “You know me so well.”

“I’d certainly hope I would. I’d make a rather poor girlfriend if I didn’t.” Kai’Sa pulls her arms away and shifts, scooting away towards the edge of the bed. “Come on. If you want pancakes, I’ll need some help from my sous-chef.”

Ahri practically springs out of bed. “Give me a moment to throw on some pants and I’ll be ready to clock in for kitchen duty.”

“Take your time,” Kai’Sa says, as she gets up. “There’s no rush. We have all day.”

“Well I’m hungry,” Ahri points out. “So I’ll be right there as soon as possible.”

“Ah. My mistake.” Kai’Sa nods. “You’re right, pancakes are urgent. I’ll meet you there.”

**Author's Note:**

> A little refreshing side project I decided to do in-between chapters of Claws :) I am obsessed with these women! I didn't have a ton of time to edit today since I had to do it on my lunch break, but I'll likely go through it again after work just in case I missed anything. 
> 
> For snippets, updates on what I'm working on, and a shit ton of art retweets, feel free to check out my [twitter.](https://twitter.com/UmbreonGurl)


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